


flat whites and falling in love

by bluebeholder



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: Fenris moves on from his job at the Darktown coffeeshop.But he can't let go of his feelings for Anders.(The authorized sequel to "flat whites and assholes.")
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	flat whites and falling in love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [flat whites and assholes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23156209) by [Pyxyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyxyl/pseuds/Pyxyl). 



> So my sister Pyxyl wrote me a fic because she loves me and wants me to be happy. Then she authorized me to write a sequel!
> 
> I tried to make it the same length, and I ONLY came in about 600 words over the original count. I'm proud of myself. (There was supposed to be Hawke/Merrill, but somehow...that didn't make it in? Oh well.)

The Hanged Man was as loud and raucous as ever, and tonight Hawke’s table was more enthusiastic than ever. It was a party, a real one, to celebrate Fenris’ most significant academic achievement. Fenris felt a bit like sliding under the table, but Isabela’s arm around him kept him from disappearing.

“It’s just the GED,” he muttered to Varric, under cover of Aveline returning to the table with another round of drinks.

“Broody,” Varric said, turning to take a selfie with Fenris in the background, “you’ve worked hard to get here. Let us shower you with compliments before you put your shoulder back on the grindstone.”

It was true. Fenris had worked hard for this. His past—adopted by the worst of all possible men, kept out of school and barely literate, emancipated only by his adoptive father’s untimely death—hadn’t set him up for success. Fenris had much to learn, and learn he had.

But it was only in the last year and a half that things took a turn for the better. Trapped in a dead-end retail job, Fenris had been certain that he would never succeed. Until a certain tall, blond, obnoxious asshole with two cats—the very same asshole now sitting beside him—took over Darktown, the coffeeshop across the street, and offered Fenris a job.

With a better salary, more flexible hours, and a supportive environment, Fenris finally had the chance to improve his circumstances. He’d applied to Kirkwall Community College and, based on strong recommendations and a good personal narrative, received provisional acceptance and a work-study position, contingent on an acceptable GED score.

As of yesterday, Fenris had the requisite score, and officially would be starting college in the fall.

“A toast!” Hawke shouted. They pulled away briefly from chatting with Merrill, still on her first hard cider, and raised their beer. “To Fenris!”

“To Fenris!” the table chorused.

Fenris seriously considered sinking under the table for good. He tried, when Isabela let go of him to reach for the second margarita Aveline brought her, but found himself caught by the arm and hauled back up. “No, you don’t,” Anders said. He grinned at Fenris, that smile sending butterflies flapping their way around Fenris’ stomach as it always did. “This is _your_ party.”

“I didn’t even plan it,” Fenris said. He gestured at Hawke. “ _They_ did.”

“And it’s still yours,” Anders said. He hadn’t let go of Fenris yet.

Somewhere, Fenris found the courage to say, “I will only stay here if you keep me.”

Anders’ smile softened. His hand slid down to wrap around Fenris’ hand. “I can do that.”

Fenris was reasonably sure that the entire table noticed the byplay, but, for once, his friends were considerate enough not to mention it. Everyone here, at one time or another, had spoken to Fenris on the subject. Merrill advised him to simply speak to Anders of his feelings; Hawke offered to act as wingperson; Aveline had said to discover Anders’ favorite flower; Varric suggested a poem; Isabela…her suggestion was too lewd for polite company, but it was well meant. (Fenris also thought it was the only suggestion likely to actually work: Anders could be _remarkably dense_.)

But Fenris objected to attempting to date the man who wrote his paychecks. He’d been down that road before and it had not ended well. It would give Anders power over him in too many ways and Fenris shied away from such a circumstance.

So Fenris kept his mouth shut, ignored the way that Anders’ mere presence gave him butterflies, done his desperate best not to return the casual flirtations Anders threw his way, and kept up a prickly exterior. That last wasn’t difficult, when he disagreed with Anders on so many things. What was difficult was the fact that Fenris wanted—

Well. He did his best, honestly, to just blame Anders for being a flirtatious asshole with no idea of how pretty he was when he smiled.

When the party ended, they were still holding hands.

-

The rest of spring and summer seemed to fly by in a haze. Seasonal drinks switched to cold teas and iced coffees. Merrill convinced Anders to buy exclusively fair-trade coffee and put up posters about deforestation, animal rights, responsible palm oil purchases, and legal protections for native people in threatened areas. Anders finally got his liquor license. Varric published another novel— _Hard in Hightown, Part 3_ —and did a public reading at the coffeeshop. A new martial arts center opened down the street, run by the Qunari family; Fenris found out mere days later that the center was a front for organized crime and that Isabela had problems with the family the day he had to hide her under the counter.

Fenris found himself spending more and more time with Anders. Tasting his always-awful flat whites and offering feedback which Anders always ignored. Looking after his cats when Anders had to go out of town for a weekend and staying for dinner when Anders came back. Taking the late-night shift just to spend time with Anders, without anyone else around. Accepting rides home from Anders, or taking him on trips on the city buses and trains when Anders’ car was in the shop again.

That didn’t mean Anders _wasn’t_ an asshole. The man never missed a chance to air strongly-worded opinions about politics and religion, or tease and insult Fenris, or to text his employees that he wasn’t going to be in to work today because he’d gotten in trouble at another protest the night prior and they’d have to cover for him. He drove Fenris insane and he knew it.

But he was handsome while he did it, and he still had the Pay It Forward wall, and he was funny and caring and Fenris was hopelessly, hopelessly in love with him.

It was good.

But all good things came to an end.

-

With his work-study position, Fenris had no more need to work at Darktown. His last day came, and since it was a Wednesday and everyone was busy, there was no chance for Hawke to throw another party. Merrill, teary-eyed, came to the coffeeshop to deliver a stack of cards from his friends and a going-away care package from her, as well as a hug.

Fenris took off his apron—not without a pang—for the last time, and hung it up neatly in the kitchen, before turning to go out the back door.

“Hey,” Anders said from behind him. “Wait a second.”

Fenris paused and turned around again, looking up at Anders. “Yes?”

“We’re going to miss you,” Anders said, after a moment. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. “You…it’s been good to have you around.”

“I will miss working here,” Fenris said. He bit his lip for a moment. “I always meant to thank you for the job offer. I would not…be able to leave here, if you hadn’t hired me.”

It was clumsy wording and Fenris winced. But Anders, for once, seemed to get it. “Just come back and visit me once in a while?” he asked softly.

“Of course,” Fenris said.

He wasn’t sure who stepped forward first, but no matter which of them it was, the hug lasted for a long time.

-

College was extraordinarily chaotic. Classes and work and travel didn’t come together easily, and though the semester started in September, Fenris didn’t get his feet under him until mid-October. It was on October 15th, in fact, that Fenris woke up with three shocking realizations.

First, he hadn’t been back to Darktown since his last day as an employee.

Second, he terribly, terribly missed that ridiculous asshole behind the counter.

Third, said asshole was no longer his boss.

-

He went after class, taking the bus down a familiar route to Darktown. It had only been a few weeks, but it felt like years. The orange writing on the chalkboard in the window of the coffeeshop said “PUMPKIN SPICE” and, on a table inside, a jack-o’-lantern was on display. Mr. Wiggums and Ser Pounce-A-Lot curled in their basket beside the jack-o’-lantern, looking unbearably cozy.

It was busy, people taking advantage of the warm coffeeshop on a cold day, and no one noticed Fenris come inside. He stood in line, watching Anders work the register as Hawke and a woman Fenris didn’t know flitted around the back, making drinks. It was a fair wait, but at last Fenris stepped up to the counter.

Right then, Anders was saying something to Hawke, and spoke to Fenris without looking. “Just a moment, sorry—what can we get started for you?”

“One flat white, please,” Fenris said, “and I hope you’ve all been practicing.”

Anders’ head whipped around so fast that Fenris thought he’d break his neck. “Fenris,” he breathed, and it turned out Fenris missed that smile more than he expected. The smile turned mischievous in a heartbeat, though. “If you’re _that_ worried about your drink being up to scratch…your apron’s in the back. Make it yourself and it’s on the house.”

Fenris stared at Anders for a moment—this asshole was unbelievably audacious!—then went around to the kitchen to find his apron.

He was just tying it on when Anders cleared his throat behind him. “I really did miss you,” Anders said, when Fenris looked up at him. He scuffed the toe of one shoe on the floor, distinctly awkward.

“To be clear,” Fenris said, “I’m still not your employee.”

“Why…does that matter?” Anders asked, staring at Fenris like he’d grown a second head.

“Because I _refuse_ to date the man who writes my paycheck,” Fenris said, and without further ado pulled Anders down into a kiss.

Any worry Fenris might have had that his feelings weren’t reciprocated vanished for good when Anders returned the kiss.


End file.
